


Lover of the Light

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Prompt Fic, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2018, Smut, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time), Touching, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: A bowl of strawberries finally breaks the tension between Belle and Rumplestiltksin.





	Lover of the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evilsnowswan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilsnowswan/gifts).



> For the lovely evilsnowswan! Her prompt was: dark castle, strawberries, touch. I hope you like it.

 

It starts with a bowl of strawberries.

Belle stops and stares, dusting rag in her hand, her head tilted in curiosity. They sit in a clay bowl, their bright, shiny red skins taunting her with their sweetness, the dark green tops and short stems firm yet supple between her fingers. Late morning sunlight streams in through the windows, making the tiny seeds on the surface of the berries glisten. 

She licks her lips and drops the rag, reaching out to skim her fingers along the smooth rim of the bowl.

It wasn’t as if he’d never brought her gifts before; for weeks now he’d taken to bringing her little trinkets and baubles from his travels across the realms. And there was the library of course.

The library. He’d given her a _library_. She remembers staring up at the books, her head tipped all the way back to see the highest shelves, smiling as her teeth pulled at her bottom lip. She had never seen the room before, despite spending most of the last year cleaning the castle top to bottom. 

Well, _cleaning_ is a bit of a loose term, but she knows every nook and cranny of the place by now and those stairs had never been there before. With the hem of her dress still muddy and damp from traipsing through the woods and then suddenly there was an entire space full of books, comfortable couches, and a large stone fireplace, massive windows facing the garden on one side and the valley on the other.

It was perfect, and he’d declared it all hers. The only stipulation was she not allow the books to collect any dust, which she understood to mean that she must read them all. Every single book; top shelf to bottom, cover to cover. A terrible fate indeed. She’d swooned later that evening, flopping onto a couch with dramatic flair. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh, truly laugh, from all the way down in his belly, with his lips drawn wide, stained teeth bared without any hint of self-consciousness.

The lovely sound stirred something in her, something she’d been try very hard to suppress, but that only seemed to be getting worse. The little touches and lingering looks that passed between them were driving her spare. When she toppled from the ladder while trying to open the curtains, Rumple had caught her, gazed at her like he didn’t understand what had happened. In that moment, she felt dizzy and warm, and the feeling of his arms around her made her stomach flip.

But the strawberries are different from his other gifts. They’re different because she’d _asked_ for them.

Not in so many words, of course, but a few evenings ago she’d been reading a book about two sisters who got lost in the woods. They came upon a berry bush and ate their fill, and it reminded her of how long it had been since she’d tasted such a treat. Apples and pears were plentiful in Avonlea, and peaches were brought in by ship, but strawberries were rare and her last taste had been the week before the ogres invaded.

Rumple was nearby sitting at a workbench he’d poofed down from his tower, preparing a potion destined to turn a frog into a prince. It was strange, but she didn’t want to ask why. He’d remarked that girls lost in the woods should be careful about what berries they ate, lest they be poisonous.

She sighed and frowned at the book, the sudden remembrance of her former home and of how she’d come to be in her new one overwhelming her. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and he must have known there was something wrong because he set his ingredients aside and asked her why she’d stopped reading. She wiped the tears away quickly and forced a smile, saying she was wishing she had some strawberries. 

She knew at the time that he didn’t believe her, but she smiles and reaches for the berries again, knowing he’d been listening.

Rumplestiltskin watches her from the shadows, pleased that she’s discovered his latest gift. His eyes trail up and down her form, smirking when he sees the combs holding her hair back, the line of small white pearls standing out against the dark curls. 

Belle delights in the little things he brings back from his trips. Even something as simple as a seashell can make her eyes light up and her lips curve into a beaming smile. Sometimes he doesn’t have a deal to make or a king to needle, but he pops out anyway, poofing himself half away across the realm just to bring back the finest ribbon for her hair, in the perfect shade of blue to match her eyes. 

Seeing her delight now makes him realize he’ll go a whole lot farther than that for her. 

This trip was for nothing more than a rare herb, but he still took the time to select a velvety green fabric that he thinks will make an excellent new dress for her. Of course it will just appear in her room like the others. She will never know that he spends hours in his tower with a needle and thread and the image of her shape in his mind. The lines of her body have been tormenting him for months, so he might as well put his fantasies to practical use.

He starts to smile as he eases out of the dark corner, his leather boots silent on the stone floor.

She’s wearing her gown again, the one she had worn when he claimed her as his prize for saving Avonlea. It’s the only thing she brought with her, save for a battered copy of her favorite book. He likes the gold dress. He likes watching her move around his castle in it, a high born lady serving him, her skirts swishing as she cleans. It’s his color, and it makes her all the more his. 

At least he likes to feel like it like does.

The truth is she isn’t the least bit his, at all, but he is entirely hers. She went from being prisoner to maid to guest in a very short time, and all against his better judgement. She still keeps his collections clean, and she still insists on bringing him tea in the afternoons, but it has begun to feel less like servitude and much more like - well, something else. 

Something the Dark One should not be feeling for anyone, and something Rumplestiltskin can’t feel for a woman so lovely and so far about his true station.

Belle touches the leaf of the largest strawberry, but pulls away as a voice calls out from behind her.

“Curious as ever, I see.” 

Rumplestiltskin takes the long way around the table. He plucks a loose petal from one of the roses clustered in a vase, and rubs his thumb over it. His gaze flicks between the petal and her face, wondering if her lips would feel as soft and pilate as the flower. It flutters to the floor with a wiggle of his fingers as he rounds the table to stand beside her. His eyes are steady on her as her hand curls into a fist. She presses her fist to her chest, her eyes darting to meet his before she looks back at the bowl of berries. 

He smirks and leans in close enough whisper in her ear. “Would you like to try them, _my Lady?_ ”

His voice is twittering and light, and Belle starts to smile. It didn’t take long for her to be able to tell when he was teasing her. When he isn’t putting on airs, his voice is softer and his motions are less showy. There is a strange timidness behind the facade of the Dark One, and she wonders who he was before all this, back when he still had his son. She thinks she’d like to know that man, the one who, when she hugs him, looks at her as though he’s forgotten what to do with his hands, like he can’t understand why she would show him such affection.

She’d like to show him so much more if he would let her in. She thinks she could even love him if he did. Maybe in a way she already does.

“I wasn’t sure if they were safe,” Belle says, feigning seriousness. “They could be poisoned.”

Her lips curve slightly, as do his, and he shrugs. “I found them in a grove three kingdoms to the east. They grow on only one farm in the shadow of a great mountain that spews fire every one hundred years.”

Belle’s eyes widen and her lips part in quiet amazement. The places he describes from his journeys always sounded so incredible, like the fantastical places she’s read about in her books and dreams of seeing. Sometimes she imagines what it would be like if he took her with him, if they could travel the realms together

Rumplestiltskin licks his lips slowly as he breathes in her scent, like roses and the fresh dewy morning. She catches him out of the corner of her eye, and he glances away, looking at the strawberries. “You haven’t answered my question.”

The bowl disappears in a puff of purple smoke, reappearing in his hand. He holds the clay vessel aloft at his shoulder and then swoops it down in front of her as if he were serving her at some royal ball. “I promise they will be the sweetest you’ve ever tasted.”

Her eyes narrow in amusement and she lets her teeth play against her bottom lip, pulling it slightly. His eyes darken, and she feels that tension again, a string taut between them that she could break if only she was brave enough. 

“Is this a trick?” she asks.

Rumple pulls away, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I would never!”

Belle tilts her head and rolls her eyes, and then reaches for the bowl. “Fine.”

“Allow me,” he says, with a flourish of his hand, the silky cuff of his shirt brushing against her.

He eyes the berries for a moment, and then selects the largest one, perched at the top of the pile. Holding the stem between his scaly fingers, he holds it out for her, fighting to keep his hand from trembling as she leans in to take it from him.

Time seems to stop, to stretch, as he watches her mouth close around the treat. Her eyes are on him until the moment her teeth breach the fruit and its flavor floods her mouth. She closes her eyes and moans happily, smiling as she pulls back. It’s all he can do to remain upright as thoughts of falling to his knees and using his own mouth to make her make that same sound over and over again.

She reaches for him, grasping his arm as she sighs and licks the juice from her lips. He shudders and knows she can feel it, but his legs refuse to move, to let him run from her sweet torment. The light pressure of her fingers burns through his shirt and leave his skin heated and his pulse thrumming. Her lips have just a hint of red and he knows if he could kiss her right now that she would taste even sweeter and better than any food.

Belle looks up at him and lets out a small gasp. His expression is like nothing she’s ever seen before. He’s looking at her like he can’t decide if he wants to run or - or devour her. She knows which she’d prefer, and maybe this is it, this is the moment where she could be brave enough.

The noise he makes when she kisses him is one that Rumplestiltskin will deny to his grave. It’s somewhere between a gasp of shock and a groan of sweet relief. The bowl of strawberries clatters to the floor, sending the fruits rolling across the stone, but her lips are still touching his so he can’t be bothered to care. When she pulls back, he follows her, his hands moving to her waist to hold her close. 

She smiles against his mouth and lets him bring her in, her shoe squishing a berry on the way. When he flicks his tongue over her lip, begging entrance, she moans and her eyelids flutter. They are so close her lashes are brushing his face, but all he can think is that it’s not close enough. It never will be enough until he’s possessing her body, heart, and soul. The darkness inside him rages and screams, but he needs her too much to let it get in the way now. He needs her light and her goodness to chase it away and keep him sane, to remind him how to live.

And maybe even love.

He could. He loved - _loves_ \- his son, and if there’s any space left in his wretched heart between Baelfire and the curse that blackens him, then it surely belongs to Belle. She pushes against his chest and he finally releases her mouth. His body braces itself, ready for her to realize what’s happened, for her to crack her palm against his face. But when she does touch him, it’s soft and tender, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

There’s an ache in her chest and a burning between her legs, and they drive her forward, pushing him back against the edge of the table. The kiss is harder this time, teeth and tongues and gasping breaths as they pull at each other. Her foot slips on the smashed strawberries, and suddenly a plume of smoke engulfs them.

When it fades they are in her room, and Rumple steps back, blinking as if he’s confused about what he’s done. His hand comes up, hesitantly brushing her face, like he’s confirming she’s real, that what’s happened isn’t a dream.

Belle doesn’t expect him to touch her so gently, almost reverently. He caresses her bottom lip, swollen and red from kissing. He brushes the spot that he’d touched with his tongue, swirling with the same delicate motion with which he’d touched the rose petal. She makes herself be still, her hands fisting in her skirts to keep from grabbing him and hauling herself against him.

Rumple can feel the little puffs of warm air over his hand as she breathes, and he staggers. “I - I’m sorry, I -”

She moves to him in two quick steps, her hands wrapping around his neck. “No,” she whispers, hoping he understands. “No.”

She pulls him down and parts her lips, moaning when he pushes his tongue inside. He holds her waist gently, his fingers flexing in the satin of her dress, the soft press of her breasts nearly making him lose control. Her fingers slide into his hair, and he lets her deepen the kiss, lets her steal the very breath of him right out of his lungs. A voice screams in his head to take what she’s offering, to make her his in every way and ruin her, but he pulls away, panting harshly. 

Her eyes flutter open and she looks up at him, mouth open, lips red.

“Don’t,” he pleads with her as her hands slide down over his chest. “You can’t.”

His voice is strained and ragged, full of desperation, fear, and hope. 

She pushes up on her toes, her fingers curling into his leather vest, and kisses him softly, eyes open and fixed on his. “No one decides my fate but me.”

 

 

* * *

 

The laces of her bodice are loose, dangling over the ruffles at the small of her back as she breathes.. His fingers had been plucking at the strings while his mouth kissed and nibbled from her ear, down her neck, to her collarbone and back again. When he reached the bottom and her dress spread open, exposing the length of her spine, he stopped.

Rumplestiltskin stands behind her and slips his finger tip along the collar of her dress, following the arc of the fabric as it dips down to her shoulder blades. His hands are smooth and warm as they glide over her skin, not rough or scaly like she’d first imagined all those months ago. She feels no chilling brush of the darkness within him. Most people would expect the Dark One’s touch to make her tremble in fear, not shiver with anticipation, but here she stands, trembling and wanting.

Belle says his name, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. “Are you certain?” He whispers softly in her ear as he pushes his nose into her hair, breathing her in. She nods, raising her hands to hold his as she turns in his arms, and smiles.

 

 

* * *

 

Belle falls onto the bed, sinking into the plush down mattress, and watches as he climbs over her. 

He dips his head and kisses her softly, his mouth sliding over hers, tongue stroking languidly to draw the pleasure out. His hand shakes as he brushes the hair from her cheek, thumbing her lip again before he lets her pull him down and pull his bottom lip with her teeth.

She arches against him as he sucks at her pulse point, begging him with her body and the moans that slip from her lips. His grip feels like it will leave bruises on her hips, his mouth dotting her skin with patches of red, and she relishes the thought of his marks on her body, claiming her undeniably as his.

“Rumple, I -” She’s cut off in a gasp as his hand covers her body, skimming down her chest and along her side. His touch leaves a ripple of pleasure in its wake, raising goosebumps on her skin as he starts to move down her body.

He looks up at her from between her thighs, his eyes flashing gold in the faint light of the fireplace. 

“Please,” she murmurs softly, letting him spread her legs open, his hands warm and wide. “ _Rumple..._ ”

She shudders at the first touch of his tongue, dipping softly between her folds, and her hands land in his hair, nails scraping his scalp. She cries out as he laps at her, her sounds making him tighten his grip on her legs. He takes her apart slowly as his cock presses into the bed, her body bucking into his mouth. He licks and sucks her sensitive flesh, slick with a desire for him he can’t begin to understand. His fingers push inside, gently stroking in rhythm with his lips and tongue until she’s keening and mumbling his name on every breath. 

When she comes, her body curls up off the bed, and her vision goes white as lightning flashes behind her eyelids. It is nothing like she’s read about in the filthy books she snuck out of the library and release she’s sought with her own hands in the middle of the night pales in comparison. Being with Rumplestiltskin is so much _more_. At the height of her pleasure her body goes slack, and tears leak from the corners of her eyes while her chest swells with a feeling she can barely describe but understands in the depths of her soul

When it’s over and she has collapsed in a heap on the bed, Rumple has the audacity to ask if she’s well, as if he is actually worried that he’s hurt her somehow. She silents his worries with a rough kiss, and frantic hands grabbing at the laces of his distractingly tight trousers.

At the first brush of his cock between her legs, she bites her lip. Her body lifts off the bed, trying to press closer, to urge him on. He says her name and feels her squeeze him with her thighs as he melds them together in every way possible.

He mumbles her name over and over as he moves, delirious with desire and need and love.

_Love._

He’s not foolish enough to deny it, but the way she clings to his shoulders, rolling her hips into his to meet him halfway, he could almost believe it was possible. He pushes himself up and their eyes meet, holding as she lifts her body into his, a smooth, wet slide that breaks the last of his restraint. He lets out a strangled cry, and buries his face in her neck as they give and take from each other. Her short nails scratch against his back, and he can feel a tiny break in the skin as his orgasm approaches. He won’t let his magic heal it; he wants it to remain forever so he can remember in the darkest times that there was a moment when Belle was his, and he was hers.

She feels the moment when his control gives out, and the intensity of it wrenches another crashing wave of pleasure from her body. Feelings soar through her, turning her blood to fire and stealing the breath from her lungs. Her voice gives out, cracking as she tries to say his name one last time.

 

 

* * *

 

Later, there are a few more strawberries and a lot more teasing. Rumple lets her roll him onto his back, grinning as he revels in the view of her body while shemoves above him in a with a torturous, slow rhythm that nearly breaks his sanity. He tries to hold out as long as he can, but she knows what to do now and he is happily helpless beneath her.

She tries to tell him something as her eyelids blink, slow and heavy with sleep, but he quiets her with a kiss and a soft shake of his head, a grin pulling at his mouth. Her teeth catch her bottom lip as she smiles, and he thinks perhaps she understands. He can’t hear her words right now, not when they can so easily destroy him. He can’t think about the way her touch eases something hard and cold in his chest, or how well she has fit into his life, bringing a light that seems to shine brighter every day. 

Though he had fought it all at first, he now realizes the only answer is surrender.

She sleeps with her head on his chest and her hand over his heart while he lies awake wondering how he has come to be this blessed. He needs this, _her_ , before whatever might come next: Regina, the curse, and a land without magic. 

This memory and the hope of more may just carry him through.


End file.
